


let's conspire to ignite

by downmoon



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Implied Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3117935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downmoon/pseuds/downmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroo likes to pretend the squeezing around his heart isn’t from the way Daichi shifts his awkward gaze from Oikawa to him, and he doesn’t overanalyze the smile that creeps across Daichi’s face, the warmth that lights up his eyes.</p><p>It’s just a trick of the light.</p><p>Probably.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let's conspire to ignite

**Author's Note:**

> Secret Santa gift for rubsomepinkinit.tumblr.com
> 
> [tumblr](downmoonwrites.tumblr.com)  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/dyefighter)

“I hate parties.”

“You do not.”

“I  _do,_  Kuroo.  I hate them.”

“So that’s why you dragged me and Iwaizumi to Matsushima’s last week, right?  ‘Cause you hate parties?”

“Oh, come on, that wasn’t a party.”

“Yeah, all that underage drinking and loud music was just to set the mood for studying.”

“Right.  See? You understand me.”

He doesn’t.  No one  _really_  understands Oikawa, except Iwaizumi, which is both eerie and incredible.  There’s a reason Iwaizumi’s usually made babysitter, when alcohol’s going to be involved, and it’s a duty Kuroo is in no way jealous of. 

But it also means that Kuroo takes pity on Iwaizumi every once in a while, and ends up victim to the brunt of Oikawa’s pettiness for an evening, sometimes even longer, if Oikawa’s in the mood for drunk dialing.

“Okay, you hate parties.  Why’d you come to this one?”

Kuroo’s expecting Oikawa to go on some long ramble about all the reasons he doesn’t consider  _this_  to be a party (reason number one being that they’re both crammed onto Kaname’s tiny couch with slowly warming drinks in hand), but he doesn’t.  He’s rarely silent, for once, peering at Kuroo from the corner of his eye, tiny little mystery smile on his mouth.

It’s an odd little friendship, between the four of them, if all of them were feeling gracious enough to agree upon calling  _it_  a friendship.  Mostly, all of them have an unspoken agreement to pretend it doesn’t matter that Oikawa’s in everyone’s speed dial, and the night Daichi and Iwaizumi refuse to speak about never happened, and that none of them have seen each other at their absolute lowest, bogged down by the weight of their first year of college.

It’s been interesting.

“So there you guys are.”

“Dai-chan!  Happy birthday!”

“Uh, thanks.  Heard you the first twenty times you said it, but thanks.”

“Are you enjoying your party?”

“Well-”

“You know I came  _just_  for you.”

Oikawa half-heartedly muffles the laugh that spills out of his mouth, but Kuroo doesn’t even bother to hide the gleeful immaturity in his smile.  Oikawa never misses an opportunity to make Daichi turn pink.

“U-uh, yeah, heh.”

“What brings you around to the loser’s couch, Daichi?” 

Kuroo likes to pretend the squeezing around his heart isn’t from the way Daichi shifts his awkward gaze from Oikawa to him, and he  _doesn’t_  overanalyze the smile that creeps across Daichi’s face, the warmth that lights up his eyes.  It’s just a trick of the light.  Probably.

“I’m looking for Iwaizumi, actually.  Matsushima just drank that bottle of Sapporo they found in the back of Kaname’s cupboard-”

“Oh, gross!”

“Right?!  Anyway, he hasn’t thrown up yet, so Iwaizumi owes me money.”

Kuroo laughs, Daichi grins, and Oikawa pouts into his drink.  Kuroo most definitely notices that, because anytime Oikawa’s quiet means there’s something storming inside of him. 

He  _so_  doesn’t want to deal with this.  He wants to shove Oikawa over and let Daichi cram onto the couch with him, and ask him…anything, really.  If he’s looking forward to his birthday, seeing his friends again, if he’d maybe,  _possibly_  want to hang out during break.  He’d even talk about mundane stuff, about the most boring stuff on the planet, so long as it was with Daichi.

God, he’s such a sap.

Also, he’s way too nice of a friend, because instead of bundling up whatever impending shitstorm that’s brewing inside of Oikawa and bullying him off the couch, he realizes the rest of his night will be plagued with the lingering memory of Oikawa’s stupid sour face.  So he sighs, and settles into the couch, and gestures to the back of the house.

“He escaped from Oikawa like, an hour ago, and I haven’t seen him since.  He’s probably enjoying his freedom.”

“So  _mean_ , Kuroo.”

He grins at Oikawa’s petulance, the sharp dig of Oikawa’s elbow into his ribs.  Daichi glances between the two of them, curious, but silent.  He smiles a little.

“Guess I’ll go hunt him down.”

Kuroo regrets not pushing Oikawa off the couch when he slumps over and presses against his side.  He definitely regrets watching Daichi wander off when Oikawa reaches for the rest of Kuroo’s drink, and spills most of it across Kuroo’s jeans.

“Okay, that’s just great.”

“Sorry, Kuroo.”

He hates that he’s sober enough to deal with this in a responsible manner, grabbing a wad of napkins and pressing it against his damp jeans, pushing at Oikawa until he sits up and curls into the other end of the couch.

“You’re pouting.”

“I am not.”

“You are, you baby.  What the hell’s the matter with you?”

_“Nothing.”_

“Says the socialite that’s been camped out on the couch all night.”

He’s expecting Oikawa to blather on, to righteously defend himself, but for the second time that night, Oikawa surprises him with silence. 

“C’mon, seriously.  You’re not your normal, annoying self.”

“Rude.”

“But true.”

Oikawa retaliates by digging his sock-covered toes into Kuroo’s thigh, hard enough that it actually hurts, and he winces.

“Tell  _me_.”

“No. It’s Daichi’s birthday-”

“Well, it’s not actually ‘til next week-”

“And  _you_  would know that.  You’re like, twelve years old, thinking that no one’s gonna notice all your stupid staring, ‘cause you’re still too much of a coward to ask Daichi out!”

It’s vicious, suddenly, Oikawa’s tone, the kind of intensity that rarely comes out of him. Kuroo suddenly thinks that Oikawa might not be all that drunk. Maybe just sad.

"It’s not that easy."

"It is that easy. You just don’t want to admit that it’s that easy, so you can save face or dwell in your misery forever or some equally stupid reason."

"Well what about  _you?_ ”

"What about me?"

"As if, Oikawa."

Kuroo’s getting the warning look now, the one that’s reminiscent of a snake about to strike. He’s treading into dangerous territory, but his tongue has been loosened by whatever was in his cup, and he doesn’t care.

"We both know you’re in the same boat as I am."

"What are you talking about? Daichi’s  _all_  yours, loverboy. He’s not my type.”

"But he is, isn’t he?"

Kuroo lets the words hang between them, for dramatic effect and all. From the slow way Oikawa’s face grows murderous, he’d say it’s working. He grins.

"You know, the dark hair and the broad shoulders, rough hands, nice smile.  The only person it’s not obvious to is Iwaizumi.”

It feels pretty good to get one over on Oikawa for a change, to watch his face drop from angry to something neutral.  Kuroo’s not usually this catty, but Oikawa really does bring out the worst in him.  Besides, he’s already been burned once tonight, and the loss of opportunity, and his own cowardice, is pissing him off.

But it’s a short-lived victory, because bottom line is, Oikawa’s right.  He usually is.  And the way Oikawa’s face falls isn’t all that funny.

“Sorry-”

“It’s alright.  It’s true, isn’t it?”

And he looks so  _sad_  when he says it, so open and vulnerable, that Kuroo’s left breathless with guilt.

“So Iwaizumi’s really mad at me now.”

They both turn to look at Daichi, standing behind them and smiling like Iwaizumi’s anger means nothing to him.

“Back to the loser’s couch so soon, Dai-chan?  Want us to make you a spot?”

And Oikawa says it so pleasantly, his face schooled perfectly into natural, ditzy happiness, that Kuroo’s head sort of spins.  If he’s faking that smile, he’d be kind of incredible, not that Kuroo would ever tell him that.  No wonder Iwaizumi’s been oblivious.

“Nah, I’ve actually got to head out.  Seems like no one else has finals in two days.”

“Ah, yeah.  I should get back, too.  Kuroo will walk you back.”

To his credit, Kuroo doesn’t wince when Oikawa jabs him in the ribs  _(again)_ , and he thinks he does a pretty good job of silently communicating with Oikawa, but it’s Daichi’s smile that really catches him off-guard, how he just sees it flash across Daichi’s face in an instant, one of his wide, joyful smiles, before it settles into something more familiar.  Kuroo’s heart flip- flops in his chest, the traitor.

“Oh, no, that’s fine, you’re enjoying yourself-”

“I don’t mind.”

“See?  He doesn’t mind, Dai-chan.  Go ahead and make your escape.”

Daichi looks suspicious before Oikawa starts shooing him off to put on his coat, rightfully so, as anything Oikawa’s behind usually means trouble, but he complies eventually.  Kuroo’s right behind him, or, he would be, if Oikawa didn’t yank him back by the corner of his shirt.

“Hey, this is a nice sweater.  Don’t stretch it out.”

“If you don’t come back from break with at least a date for coffee, I will end you.”

“Well  _that’s_  a little extreme, don’t you think?”

“No, listen.”

Kuroo’s grateful that Oikawa isn’t always this intense, and that they play on the same volleyball team.  If he had to be at the other end of this stare all the time, well, dealing with Oikawa would be more of a pain in the ass than it already is.

“You know when you’re right there, in a middle of a game, and you don’t even see the ball, but you hit it anyway?  Like it’s just instinct for you to move your body, and you don’t even know what’s happening until you feel the burn on your arms?”

“…Are you about to make a volleyball analogy for my love life?”

“Jesus Christ, just forget it.”

“You’re such a pal, Oikawa.  Somewhere in your cold, dead heart you  _do_  care about me.”

“Shut up.  I’m just sick of watching you moon over Daichi.   _All’s_ I’m trying to say is stop thinking so hard, and just go for it.”

Kuroo appreciates Oikawa’s words, he really does. It’s a stupid comparison, maybe the stupidest he’s ever heard, but he gets the concept, and that sparks within a tiny little bud of courage.

"Well, what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Don’t try to play this game again. You know exactly who I’m talking about, and while you’re shoving me out the door behind Daichi, I’m expecting progress on the Iwaizumi front."

“What is this, some kind of blood pact?”

"Yeah. Yeah, it’s a pact. You’re gonna push me into this, I’m taking you with me. Now gimme your hand and shake on it."

Oikawa regards him rather suspiciously, his eyes roving over Kuroo’s face, probably looking for sincerity in the curve of his smile. Kuroo can’t blame him; he’d do the same if they were reversed, but Oikawa does take his hand, quickly, when Daichi pokes his head around the corner of the living room door frame, and Kuroo almost trips over himself catching up.

He doesn’t notice what Oikawa does, if he goes back to the couch, or if he actually wanders off to find Iwaizumi, but Kuroo likes to think he saw a sliver of shiny new hope in his eyes, and that the way his face softens from intensity to a more pure determination,  _wasn’t_ all imagined.

He’d forgotten how cold it was, when they step outside.  The chill runs up his spine and spreads through his shoulders, makes him hunch down into his coat.  Daichi looks completely unperturbed, his jacket unzipped, a little rosiness in his cheeks.

“You’re gonna get sick like that, you know.”

“That’s not even remotely true.”

“Well you  _might_.”

“I won’t.”

Kuroo catches it from the corner of his eye, the way Daichi ducks his head, hands shoved into the pockets of his his jacket. 

“Even if I  _did_ , which I  _wouldn’t_ -”

“But you  _could_ -”

“-I think you’d take pretty good care of me.  Wouldn’t you, Kuro?”

Kuroo’s breath is somewhere in his throat, along with his heart, fluttering like a tiny bird or a butterfly, or some other stupid metaphor that doesn’t quite capture the feelings that keep stirring up inside of him.

“Daichi-”

“You’re kinda obvious, you know.  I’ve just been waiting to see what you’d do.  Probably nothing, if I hadn’t mentioned it.”

Kuroo groans and feels his face heat up, and he kind of wants to just melt into the sidewalk and be done with fluttering hearts and running imaginary conversation with Daichi through his head and the instant wave of regret that tends to flood through him, every time Daichi’s face lights up and Kuroo bites his tongue.

“So, break’s coming up.”

“Oh, this is an interesting development.”

“Shut up, just- let me get this out.”

Daichi stops walking to watch him, and Kuroo hates what it does to him, how the soft gaze of Daichi’s dark eyes makes his stomach feel like it’s going to bottom out.  He takes a deep breath of cold, aching air.

“I like you.  A lot.  Which is apparently obvious to everyone, and you especially.  I couldn’t tell you the exact moment I knew it was more than just fondness.  Maybe one of those three a.m. text wars, or the time we both got locked out of the dorm and had to climb in through Oikawa’s window, or the time you made me stay up all night watching Utada music videos.  Maybe it’s something else.  I’m not good with this  _feelings_  shit.  It’s gross, actually, how different I feel, but it’s okay, because it’s you, and that sounds  _so_  completely cheesy I kind of want to punch myself for it, but I don’t know how else to say it, because it’s true, I just couldn’t make myself say it before now.  So  _really_ , what I’m saying is- Daichi, you’re cool.  I like your face.  Sometimes I look at you and I want to kiss you.  Break’s coming up, and Tokyo’s not all that far away, so let’s hang out.”

Kuroo’s out of breath by the time he stops talking, all the words pouring out of him like air, unable to stop them once they bubbled out.  He feels emboldened now, so far past embarrassment that he doesn’t care what Daichi says. 

That is, if Daichi can force a word out of his throat by now.

“Dude, are you okay?  Your face is all red.”

“S-shut up!  Don’t think you can just say all that stuff to me and expect me to be completely _normal!_ ”

“Well, you’re the one who asked!”

Daichi covers his face with his bare hands and groans, loud enough that Kuroo smiles.

“Hey, don’t leave me hanging.  It’s fucking cold out here, and I’d really like the use of my hands later on.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!”

Daichi drops his hands, his face still beet red, nose crinkled with the grimace-laced half smile he’s pulling, and Kuroo’s stomach swoops again.

“You’re an idiot.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, exactly?”

“It means…Tokyo’s not that far.  And you better show up for my birthday.”

“Of course.”

“And that,  _maybe_ , you should just try kissing me, and see what happens.”

That butterfly’s back in Kuroo’s chest, spreading a warmth through his body.  He’s absolutely charmed by the awkward lilt to Daichi’s words, like he’s trying to be smooth, but falling so very short.  It’s reassuring; they make a nice pair of fools this way.

Daichi’s watching him with his careful gaze, rocking forward ever so slightly on his tiptoes, like he’s waiting for Kuroo to get over himself already and kiss him.

So he does.


End file.
